Just a Dream
by shadowthief-wolf
Summary: Sherlock has a nightmare and reaches out to John for help.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first Sherlock fic and I hope it's not too OoC.

Hope you enjoy reading and reviews are greatly appreciated!

* * *

"Mr. Holmes?"

Something wasn't right. The voice was familiar but somehow unrecognizable, it sounded off.

"Sherlock?"

Ah, that sounded better. The tone wasn't entirely right but an improvement. I struggled against the heavy weight that seemed to be pressing on my eyelids and forced them open and immediately squinted under the florescent light. Based on the smell and steady beeping, John had taken me to a hospital.

"Good, you're awake. Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

My head was pounding but it was hardly a sensation I was unfamiliar with and certainly not something worth making John worry. Or start a tirade over. Everything was already hazy enough without having to filter out his voice.

"John," I could make out his face now as my eyes slowly adjusted to the glare. _Lab coat, neutral expression, steady breathing, steady hands, lack of eye contact, overall lack of inflection in his voice; as if studying a new patient_. What was he playing at. "What's going on?"My mouth felt as if it was full of cotton as I worked my tongue around the words. I could already assume he must have found me after an overdose given the massive headache.

"Dr. Watson if you how are you feeling?"

Dr. Watson? Now he wanted to play doctor? Was this his new way of showing displeasure over the drug use? I rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of all this.

"Like I just woke up from a fitful sleep. Now stop being ridiculous. There is work to do." I struggled to sit up and was surprised to find myself restrained to the bed. "What-"

"Mr. Holmes, if you would please stay still." He finally looked up from his damn clipboard, _no indications of recognition._ Unease stirred in the pit of my stomach and I twisted enough to watch as John, _no, Dr. Watson,_ stood from a chair and adjusted the drip on one of the clear bags beside me. I tried to identify what the solution was but couldn't spot a label. Probably morphine.

"What is that?"

"Just something to help you relax." Definitely morphine.

I glanced at the clipboard that John left on the bedside table. _Patient is exhibiting confusion and disorientation. Possible delusions. May not be fit for questioning at this time._ Something was very off. I could feel the morphine kicking in, making it hard to focus. I took a deep breath to steady myself. "Jo-Dr. Watson, why am I here?"

I bit back a snarl of frustration as John settled back in his chair and picked up his clipboard to jot something new down without answering. "It seems I am suffering from a bit of memory loss due to the drugs. Can you tell me why I'm handcuffed to a hospital bed?"

John scribbled for a bit more before finally bothering to look at me. "You're currently in custody at the Broadmoor Hospital."

"Custody? For what?" I could hear the beeping of the heart monitor accelerate.

That seemed to catch the doctor's attention and he stared at me in surprise. _The first emotion he's expressed since I woke up_. "The-the murders." My chest tightened."Mr. Holmes, you don't recall any of this?"

"What are you talking about? What would that have to do with me." But even as I asked, I was already piecing things together.

"Mr. Holmes, you are suspected to be responsible for the deaths of several individuals and the obstruction of justice." _One day we'll be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one that put it there._

My breath came out in short pants and the incessant beeping increased. "That can't be right. It's not. It can't. I didn't kill anyone." _That's not true_. I could hear the crack of a gun going off, the gun I had pulled the trigger on. _But that was different. That was to protect Mary, to help Mycroft, to protect my friends._

I turned to stare at John, desperate for any sign that this was a horrible joke. "We're friends, John. This is all wrong, a mistake. We're friends!" _I don't have friends!_ I started twisting in the bed, desperate to get free, to set things straight and figure out who would frame me like this again. "This is Moriarty, he must be behind all this."

"Mr. Holmes, please calm down or I will have to sedate you again." _He's a psychopath, and psychopaths get bored._

"We're friends, aren't we?" My voice was weak, drowned out by the echoing voices in my head. _I don't have friends._ _I don't have friends…_

"Mr. Holmes, I believe you are suffering from confusion. I'm just going to sedate you so that you calm down." John was up again and adjusting the bag.

I could feel my eyes getting heavy and my movements slowed. "This is all a mistake. It's all wrong…"

 **-oOo-**

Sherlock jerked awake, twisting fervently in the bed before the darkness of the room sank in and he realized where he was. He untangling himself from his own sheets and kicked them onto the floor. He pulled himself into a sitting position, drawing his legs into his chest with a shuddery breath. He stayed still, breathing slowly as he focused on slowing his still racing heart rate.

 _In._

 _120 beats._

 _Just a dream. None of that was real. You are at home. Home at Baker street._

 _Out._

 _105._

 _He's a psychopath, and psychopaths get bored._

 _His breath hitched._

 _110._

 _Not real. Not real. Not real. Focus._

 _Out._

 _102._

 _Better._

 _In._

 _Out._

 _98_

 _Just an irrational nightmare._

 _In._

 _Of course… You're my best friend._

He finally let out a long sigh and reached over to the nightstand, fumbling slightly in the dark until he had his phone.

" _ **Sherlock? Do you have any idea what bloody time it is?**_ **"**

"John." His voice wavered and he swallowed thickly as he closed his eyes and savored the annoyance present in John's voice.

" _ **Sherlock? Are you alright?**_ "

He cleared his throat. "Fine John, just fine." His voice was steadier this time.

" _ **Are you sure?**_ "

"Yes, quite. I was just calling to remind you that there is a case I would like your assistance on tomorrow. It seems I must have lost track of the time."

" _ **You could have texted that**_ **."**

"Yes, I suppose. Have a good night John." His heart rate steadied.

" _ **Yes, well... If you, ah, if you need anything I'm always here."**_

"Yes, I know."

Sherlock hung up and dropped his phone back onto the nightstand.

 _I know. Thank you._


	2. Chapter 2

I'd like to thank everyone who read the first chapter and a special thank you the people who favorited, followed and reviewed the first chapter! Your reviews encouraged me to write a second part to this so once again, thank you! I also made some edits the first chapter (nothing substantial content wise) for anyone who wants to take another look at it.

Reviews are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

* * *

"John, what are you doing?"

John looked over at his wife through the vanity mirror as he continued to button up his shirt. "Sherlock called. He has a new case and I wanted to get over there before my shift this morning."

"It's still dark." She turned over to the alarm clock. "And it's not even four in the morning."

"Well you know Sherlock."

Mary turned in the bed and drew the covers back over her head. "Alright, darling. Just be quiet when you leave. I swear to God if you wake the baby I will shoot you when you get back."

"Love you too, Mary."

He caught a cab outside his place and took it over to Baker Street. Even before he could find his keys to the flat, Mrs. Hudson was at the door.

"Oh John"

"Mrs. Hudson, you're awake rather early." He said with a nod as he came through the door, noting the plaintive melody coming from upstairs.

"I'm so glad you're here, he just started playing. It's quite lovely but makes it hard to sleep through."

"I'll see what I can do." He called over his shoulder as he headed up the stairs.

"Sherlock."

"John." He didn't miss a note as he inclined his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Playing John. I assumed even you could deduce that."

John rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yes. But why. Poor Ms. Hudson is trying to sleep downstairs."

"I'm keeping busy. It's so hard not smoking." Sherlock played another few notes before pulling the bow away and facing John. "Why are you here?"

"You called." John shrugged off his coat and set about preparing a cup of tea.

"About a case. It's not a rush and can be taken care of during the day."

"You could have called during the day about it then."

"As I explained, I lost track of the time."

"The call didn't sound like it was about a case." John caught Sherlock tense out of the corner of his eye, a beat passing before he lifted the violin again. "Don't you dare start playing again. Give Mrs. Hudson a rest."

Sherlock rolled his eyes before setting the violin back in its case. "Fine. Though, while I'm not really sure what she gets around to down there, I highly doubt a few hours missed sleep will affect her day much." He flounced over to his chair and collapsed on it with a huff. "What are you doing here John? You have a newborn to be looking after. It's not very husbandly to leave it all up to Mary."

John rubbed at his eyes, hoping to dispel the blossoming headache. "Mary knows I'm here. And I'm sure the great Sherlock Holmes can figure out why I came all this way," he said as he carried the teacups over and sat.

"If you are here because of some misguided concern, I can assure you that it was a wasted trip. Thank you for the tea."

"Alright, I'm just going to go right out and ask. Are you okay?"

"Fine. Just fine if you exclude how terribly boring everything has been lately."

"I thought you said there was a case?"

"Oh that, barely above a five." Sherlock waved his hand dismissively.

"Then why call me in the middle of the night."

Sherlock took a sip of his tea and shrugged.

"Sherlock!"

"I just needed confirmation on something."

"On what? That after the baby I'd still answer your every call?" John rubbed at his head again, the headache now in full swing, his own tea forgotten.

"That we were friends"

He paused and looked at Sherlock who was diligently staring down the fireplace. "What? Why would you need confirmation of that?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does!" Silence filled the room and John took the opportunity study Sherlock, noticing how tired the man looked.

When Sherlock finally did respond, his voice was softer and John could hear a hint of uncertainty. "Do you think I'd kill someone? Nevermind that, I already did. But do you think I'd do it simply for my own amusement? Like Moriarty? Because I became too bored?"

"No, of course not."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you're not like him. You're not alone."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and finished off his tea. "Don't be silly John. We are all alone."

"Perhaps, but we are alone together." John straightened in his seat. "You're my best friend and I will always be here. Even if you are an insufferable ass."

Sherlock's lip curled into a half smile before he glanced down at his cup. "How about another cuppa?"

John let out a bark of laughter. "Fine, but only cause mine has gone cold." He got up and moved toward the kitchen again.

"Oh and John? Don't tell Mycroft about any of this. "


End file.
